


Memories and Magic

by Blackened_Wings



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: AU, Modern Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-28
Updated: 2014-09-14
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blackened_Wings/pseuds/Blackened_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has grown used to having no one close to him as the years have dragged on. He hasn't made friends for lifetimes, until Arthur suddenly reappears and all rules are thrown out the window as the bewildered king struggles in the modern world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Happy(?) Chance

The man had a wealth of experience hidden behind his blue eyes, and it scared most of the people he would attempt to befriend. So, by this point, he’d given up on the quest of finding someone to ease the loneliness inside of him and instead sunk into himself. He was an attractive, quiet man, mysterious and therefore desirable, but there weren’t any that were brave enough to get past desire with him.

He supposed he didn’t mind. Mostly, he accepted the at times unbearable solitude because it was worse when he outlived his friends. He had tried, once Arthur was a memory and Camelot in ruins. For lifetimes he’d tried, and finally, it just hadn’t been worth it. He’d attended too many funerals, hidden behind a hat because he hadn’t aged a day. He’d watched too many run away from him when they learned, and he’d had to let them go.

His eyes were the only thing that had aged. That just wasn’t enough in the constantly changing world he lived in.

He clung to the thought that someday, Arthur would return. When he was needed, Arthur would come back, and then at least he’d have someone.

A girl sat next to him at the bar, ordering a vodka from the bartender before facing the man with black hair and a defeated posture.

“My friend thinks you’re pretty cute.” She had a slight giggle in her voice, and Merlin immediately knew that her ‘friend’ didn’t exist. She was too timid to talk to him on her own behalf. He chuckled quietly.

“Tell your friend thanks for me.” He glanced up at her, his black hair falling over his eyes, his lashes long and dark.

“Can… can I buy you a drink?”

“I’d like to buy yours, if you wouldn’t mind. I think I’ve had enough.”

“Oh… oh, alright. Sure. I’m Morgan.”

Merlin didn’t miss a beat, even if the name startled him. Every time he ran into a name from Camelot… it hurt. His heart ached and his lungs burned, but he’d grown so used to it that he could function past the pain.

“Marcus. Pleasure to meet you.” He offered her a smile, and she accepted it with a blush.

They chatted for a long while about nothing, and Merlin was pleased that she didn’t fear the depth behind his eyes. She seemed drawn in, intensely curious, and Merlin found himself more interested the longer she stayed. She had dark hair and green eyes, a smile that lit up her face and put small dimples in her cheeks. She blushed whenever he complimented her, but she thanked him for each kind word by meeting his eyes. She was a doctor; she’d always been good at healing, at helping others, and it had seemed the obvious choice. She’d adopted a boy, her brother’s son Morris, when his father had been sentenced to death on murder charges and his mother had died of the grief. He was a cheeky little boy, but he was good all the same. They lived in a small apartment in the city, because they didn’t need very much room. The Castle, it was called, and Merlin chuckled inwardly at the absurdity of it all. How history repeated itself, in the strangest ways. Here was Morgana’s double, caring for a boy with no parents. Obviously her healing ability was traces of the magic she had once had in Camelot, because Merlin was certain this girl was a reincarnation of his once enemy. And it amused him more that she was hitting on him, hinting that she’d like to take him home, that Morris was with his grandparents’ for the weekend.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” Merlin answered quietly, his smile not quite reaching his eyes as he turned her down. He didn’t want her to get too close. He’d allowed himself too much already, but the memories she brought about were pleasing.

“Oh… oh, alright. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so forward-“ She frowned.

Merlin felt a pang at her obvious disappointment. “What happened to that friend of yours?”

She didn’t need to answer, just smile and flush again. She was cute when she did that. The woman he had known had never blushed at him, then an awkward serving boy or a mortal enemy. He had to admit that he liked this one better.

“Do you want to get dinner with me sometime, then?”

Merlin just chuckled. “Are you sure you want to get dinner with me?”

“Positive.”

The sorcerer knew he shouldn’t accept the invitation, but for some reason, on a night like tonight, it didn’t seem like such a bad thing. He wrote his number down on a napkin and handed it to her. “Call me sometime.”

She smiled and nodded. “I will.” She rose from the barstool, gathering her purse and hesitating before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Then she hurried out, into the night air, leaving Merlin with a lipstick mark on his cheek and feeling equal parts pleased and upset with himself.

He paid the bill and stood, buttoning his black peacoat and wrapping a red scarf around his neck. This one was longer than the neckerchief he’d worn in Camelot, and much warmer, but it reminded him who he was. Who he waited for, every day. And honestly, who he doubted would ever return. This world didn’t need a knight. This world didn’t need a sorcerer. Politicians and police officers and doctors, heroes that made this world run.

Merlin was currently living in a hotel across the street while he decided if he wanted to stay here or move on. Now that he’d met Morgan, he was sure he shouldn’t stay long. He could tell her he’d been in town on business, but home was too far away to continue a relationship. He could just leave, let her make up her own stories about what had happened. He could break her heart. He’d done it before, and he wasn’t afraid to do it again.

He just hated himself for it. But then again, he hated himself already. He replayed Arthur’s last moments in his dreams every night, and every night convinced him further that he could have saved the king, somehow. Even though the logical part of his brain reminded him that the once and future king would have died long ago anyway, he still felt as if he should have done more, that his loneliness was in part because he’d failed to save the one person he should have been able to.

His hands deep in his pockets against the winter chill, he made his way to the small room he currently called home.

He hadn’t gotten far when he heard the sound of sirens flying through the streets. Merlin followed the sound subconsciously, and then with a jolt realized they were heading toward the bar. He turned back immediately, concerned. Usually he tried to avoid trouble, but Morgan… well, he was a little protective of the girl, if only because he wanted to keep some piece of his past alive. Even if he never saw her again, even if he abandoned her and broke her heart, she would still be somewhere. He would know that he wasn’t entirely alone.

By the time he arrived at the scene of the crime, a few blocks away from the bar, the police tape had been set up and a sheet covered a body, already stained with red. Merlin pushed his way through the crowd until he was just behind the tape, staring into the cop infested area.

He felt his heart sink. He was sure it was Morgan lying dead in the street, had a deep sense of dread building in his gut. He’d never been able to keep reminders of his past lives in his current life, had always lost them to some unnatural death or another unless he left. He’d hardly been with her for a night, and apparently that had been long enough.

“Back up, back up.” An officer walked along the inside of the police line, waving his baton at the members of the crowd that pushed against the tape. He gave Merlin a look before continuing on his rounds, periodically threatening arrest when someone didn’t listen to him. Merlin only had eyes for the sheet, increasingly growing more red.

A buzz of excitement began to spread through the crowd, and Merlin attempted to stand a little taller to see what was happening. A new car had pulled up on the opposite side of the crime scene, and obviously someone of importance had stepped out. Merlin just caught sight of golden hair when someone nudged him. He glanced to his right, expecting someone, anyone, except for the girl with dark hair and green eyes.

“What’s going on?” Morgan whispered, her eyes wide. Merlin almost fell sideways in relief when he saw her, alive and well, her hair a little disheveled but otherwise completely the same as when they’d parted.

“Well? What’s up?”

“Apparently someone’s been murdered…” He couldn’t keep the relief out of his voice, he just couldn’t. Years and years of experience, and he still couldn’t keep his emotions in check. Which wasn’t always a bad thing.

“Well, it wasn’t you or me. So…?”

“I dunno. I was hoping it wasn’t you.”

“I was hoping it wasn’t you. We have a date, remember?” Morgan smiled at him, but immediately grew serious again as she looked at the blood stain on the cement. “Apparently it’s pretty serious. That’s the prince.”

Merlin’s gaze turned toward the body again, and slowly his eyes made their way up the handsome, tall, broad shouldered blonde with a chiseled jawline and bright blue eyes. He wore a black suit, a black tie, and a deep red shirt. When he moved, Merlin could see the gun holster on his hip, mostly hidden by the expensive suit jacket.

Merlin’s vision swam for a moment, and the next thing he knew, he was lying on the ground with Morgan staring down at him and a physician at her side. He blinked hard a few times before sitting too quickly and making his head spin.

“Arthur.” He whispered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Help me up?” Morgan looked at the physician, who nodded. Then she offered the man a hand and slowly pulled Merlin to his feet.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, fine.” Merlin’s eyes immediately sought the man, who was now kneeling by the body and pulling the sheet away from a woman’s face, with red hair and what could have been a pretty face, if not for the bruising and blood. His back was to Merlin, but just from the shoulders, the way he sat, the way he moved… it was Arthur.

“Can I walk you home? Or get you a taxi?”

“No… no thanks.”

“Marcus, you just fainted, I think you need to go home and get some rest-“

“No. Thanks.” Merlin turned to glance at her once before returning his attention to the blonde. Morgan put her hands in the air and rolled her eyes before crossing her arms and staring at the scene.

“Do you know the guy?”

“Do you?”

“Of course. He’s the fourth prince, Arthur Pendragon. Not an heir to the throne, exactly, so he took up studying law enforcement. Got in with the higher ups, now he’s some really important… I don’t even know, his actual position is apparently some top secret whatever. But it’s not like the rest of it is secret… you’re really not from around here, are you?”

“No, not really. I’ve been looking for a new place to live, just happened to end up here by chance…” Merlin wasn’t paying much attention, instead staring at the man in front of him. His prince, the once and future king, standing up and pulling blood covered gloves from his hands. He handed them to someone standing nearby and turned to address the crowd. Merlin froze, his breath stopping in his chest.

“Alright folks, just go back to your homes, you’ll get a report on the news. Right now we have work to do.”

Slowly, the crowd began to disperse, seeming pleased to obey the request of the man in a dark suit. He was scanning the group of people when his eyes found Merlin’s, and his face seemed to go blank. He took a few steps forward, shook his head, and turned around. Merlin couldn’t move, even though Morgan was pulling on his arm, begging him to take her home.

Arthur turned around again, seeming to have made up his mind, and took purposeful steps toward Merlin, his eyes focused, his chin set. Merlin still recognized the look, recognized the sway of his walk. His hair was shorter now, pushed back by fingers running through the golden strands, messy. In the lobe of his left ear a small diamond stud sparkled, and there was a loop through his left cartilage.

But he was still Arthur.

“Excuse me, sir.” Arthur pulled a badge from his inside jacket pocket, flashing it so quickly Merlin didn’t have time to read it before it was safely tucked away again. “I have a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

“For… me?”

“Yes, you dollophead, for _you_. Do you see any other men milling about like lost puppies?” Arthur raised the police line so Merlin could duck underneath it, but the sorcerer looked at Morgan and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t feel right leaving Morgan to walk herself home, not after this.”

“Then bring her along too, just hurry it up.”

Merlin offered Morgan his hand before they both ducked under the tape and followed Arthur, who was apparently in some kind of hurry. They followed him to an abandoned apartment building close by and entered quickly, the door closing behind them. There was no one in the empty lobby, and Arthur turned to look at Merlin. His eyes took in everything, watched the man do the same. Then, after a tense few moments, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the sorcerer, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.

“Merlin, thank god. I’ve been so confused, I… where have you been? Where am I? What’s going on?” He pulled away and looked at Merlin, staring deep into the blue eyes with confusion, anxiety, and fear, an emotion that was unfamiliar to the once king. “These clothes… they’re uncomfortable. And what’s this?” Arthur pulled the gun out of the holster, almost dropping it. Merlin quickly grabbed it and, after a moment’s hesitation, put it back.

“Don’t mess with that.”

“But what is it? What is this place? Why is Morgana dressed like a prostitute? Why are you dressed… like that? Why am _I_ dressed like this? What are these buildings? And the shiny metal boxes, they freak me the fuck out. The fuck out? What does that even mean?”

Arthur’s eyes were so full of confusion and fear at that point. He was truly lost.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” Merlin asked, slowly placing his hands on Arthur’s shoulders.

“I… Mordred, stabbing me, but he died, and you… your magic. You tried to save me, and I… but I…” The prince was on the verge of tears, and Merlin didn’t know what to do about it. He’d never seen Arthur so desperate before. “And then I saw you, standing there, and my body knew what to do but I didn’t, I just let it happen, but now… Merlin.”

“What. The fuck.” Merlin’s eyes flashed to Morgan, who looked a little confused but mostly mad. “Merlin? Magic? I never knew the prince was just as crazy as attractive. And did he just call me a prostitute?”

Merlin was really wishing that Morgan hadn’t come with them. If he’d known that Arthur had just realized who he was, he would have asked someone else to take her home, maybe one of the many cops that swarmed the area.

“You are certainly dressed like one.”

“Excuse me, this is _modest_.”

“Not where I come from.”

“And where is it that you come from?”

“Camelot.”

“What, the famous King Arthur.”

“Yes. Obviously. What’s gotten into you, Merlin bewitch your brain?”

Morgan just stared at him for a moment before throwing her hands in the air. “Sure. Fine. Whatever. I’ll call you later, Marcus. I’ve had enough of this crazy for one night.”

As amusing as it was that Morgan and Arthur acted like siblings, and as easy as it would be to let Morgan go home on her own, Merlin couldn’t let her. He was still worried. There was still a killer on the loose, and he wasn’t about to be the reason she didn’t make it home to her boy.

“Morgan?”

“Yes, Marcus? Merlin? Whatever your name is?”

“Just… ask one of the cops to give you a lift, please?”

Morgan stared at him for a long moment before nodding once. “Yeah. Sure. Be safe.” The woman walked out of the building, tossing her hair over her shoulder and smiling at the first officer she saw.

“Let’s get you home, why don’t we?”

“You better have a good explanation for this, Merlin.”

Merlin led the way, wondering how the tone was exactly the same as it had been in Camelot. How Arthur was the same, and yet… there was something different, too. Merlin didn’t know what it was, but his friend had managed to change between his death and his reawakening as well.

“I’ll figure something out.” He muttered, and then led the way back into the street, followed closely by the prince.

“Just don’t leave me.” Arthur’s voice was small, ashamed of his helplessness and a little pitiful. Merlin felt his heart wrench. Yes, his Arthur was here, but different. And so scared. So very, very scared.


	2. Fourth Prince of Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin attempts to deal with a confused Arthur.

Merlin had to push Arthur into his small hotel room, because the once king was terribly confused as to what the doorknob was. And the doorbell. And basically everything that hadn’t been in the castle. Merlin smiled at the neighbors’ confused looks as they obviously questioned Merlin’s choice in friends. Or, alternately, checked out the very attractive blonde that somehow still looked regal without the crown or bright red cloak.

Merlin was glad when he finally got his friend into the building with the door closed and locked. It wasn’t a big place, but Merlin didn’t need room for anyone except himself. Just a kitchen in the corner of the living area, a door to the bathroom, and a door to the bedroom. The walls were white, the furniture was worn and faded, and one of the lights flickered. Merlin kept promising himself that he’d make a note at the front desk, but truth be told the flickering reminded him of living by candlelight in the days when life was simpler. It made him feel at home.

Arthur looked at everything, a small frown on his face. The television in the corner, the electric lights overhead, the microwave in the kitchen, even the style of the furniture… everything was new, everything was strange. Arthur had hated magic in his day, right up until the end, and now he was surrounded by things that could certainly be called magic by Camelot standards.

“You live here?” He finally asked as Merlin moved to strip his coat and scarf, hanging them on the small coat rack hidden behind the door.

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Just a few weeks. I’ve been planning on moving on…”

“Don’t you have a home?” Arthur turned to look at the black haired man, but Merlin just shrugged as he moved to the kitchen and opened the small refrigerator.

“Are you hungry?”

“Don’t you have any friends?”

“There’s not a lot in here, but I do have some… well, they’re just frozen food that I can heat up, not awful…”

“Family?”

“But I suppose they’ll do. After all, I can’t just go out hunting anymore, not that I was ever any good at it.”

“Merlin… how long has it been?”

Merlin sighed and closed the door. He stared at it for a long moment before answering, “Around 1500 years, give or take.”

“And you’ve been alone…?”

“You sure are nosy-“

“Merlin, answer me.”

Merlin turned to face Arthur, the familiar feeling of dread in his stomach. He remembered all the times he’d had to give Arthur bad news, say things he knew the king didn’t want to hear. It had been a long time since he’d felt that, and it wasn’t a feeling that he missed.

“Not completely. I tried to make friends, but… Arthur, I haven’t aged since you left. I’ve watched everyone that’s tried to be close to me die, whether it’s natural or not.” He didn’t add that they had a tendency toward unnatural. He still had difficulty admitting it, and if he did… he might have to push Arthur away. And he just couldn’t bear to do that.

Arthur must have heard the heaviness in Merlin’s words, because his eyes lost some of the anger, and his posture wasn’t so stiff. And, after a moment of indecision, he took the three long strides to Merlin and wrapped him in a solid embrace. It was a surprise, but Merlin found he had missed the man enough that he didn’t care.

It lasted too long. But it was too comfortable, too comforting. This hug didn’t speak of love, it didn’t beg for more, and it didn’t ask to mean something. It was between two friends after too many years apart, when so much had happened.

Arthur was bright red when he pulled away, and Merlin could feel his own ears burning.

“Do you… do you know what’s happening?” Arthur asked after a long moment, abruptly pulling focus away from the too long embrace. Merlin wondered if he was just embarrassed, but he saw the fear in Arthur’s eyes again. Merlin moved to the couch, gesturing that Arthur should follow suit, and Merlin quickly sat sideways, his back against the armrest. Arthur was a little slower in accepting the dirty cushions, and when he sat down he frowned.

“It’s not the best, I know, but it’s what I’ve got…”

“No, it’s… comfortable. Nice.” Arthur hesitantly poked the back rest and watched his finger sink into the cushion.

“We had cushions in Camelot.”

“Shut up.” Arthur sat stiffly, facing the television, but his eyes were glued to his hands, twisting together in front of him. “Why am I here?”

“How much do you remember… of when I came to Camelot? Or that… that last day?” He didn’t want to think about it. Not the way he’d held Arthur as the king – his best friend – had died, how he had failed, how drastically everything had changed once the blonde no longer graced the world.

Arthur frowned for a moment. “Everything. I accepted your magic. I still do.”

“In Camelot, there was a dragon. Kilgharrah. He taught me… well, a lot. And he told me it was my destiny to serve you, to help you become the king of Camelot, and to help you be… on that last day, he told me that you would rise again, when Albion’s need was greatest. I gave up on that idea a long time ago, but then, today…”

“I showed up.” Arthur finished. He looked up at Merlin, saw the pain and relief both mixed in the sorcerer’s face. “So apparently there’s something I need to do here.”

“Apparently.”

They sat in silence for a while. Arthur started messing with the tie around his neck, running a finger under the collar of his shirt, pushing the sleeves of the expensive jacket up his arms, looking in general uncomfortable. Merlin couldn’t help the small grin on his face as he asked, “Would you like to change?”

“God yes.” Arthur muttered, standing immediately. “How do you wear this? It’s the worst.”

“It’s not so bad, once you get used to it.”

“I never want to wear this again. Ever.”

“We’ll have to get something for you tomorrow. I daresay you won’t fit my clothes.”

“Can’t…” Arthur frowned, and Merlin could almost read the question in his eyes before he asked it. “Can’t you just use magic?”

“I could.” Merlin said carefully. “Habit, I suppose.”

The corner of Arthur’s mouth quirked up. “I recognize that line, and I don’t believe it after all these years.”

“I still can’t use magic, Arthur. It’s not that simple.”

“How can it not be? Camelot was the reason you had to hide it-“

“Arthur. Gwen accepted magic, yes. But as the years went on, fewer people were born with the gift, and eventually… it just faded into legend. _You_ faded into legend, Camelot… anymore, people will scream and run if you do something impossible.”

“So you’re still living the same life.”

“There just weren’t as many prats in it. Until now.” Merlin grinned as he ducked away from Arthur’s fist. The familiarity of it couldn’t have been more welcome in that moment, and Arthur smiled as well.

“Glad to see your life was so much better.”

“No one forced me on hunts and used me as bait, so that was a plus.”

“I did not!”

“You did! I can’t give any proof, but it happened, and you know it!”

“Well, even if I did, it worked.”

“No it didn’t! It never did! I scared more animals away than you caught, you clotpole.”

“It’s because you are absolute rubbish when it comes to being quiet.”

“I do apologize, _your highness_.” Merlin gave Arthur a mock bow, and he didn’t quite dodge the next blow that Arthur aimed at him. It just caught his shoulder, pushing him backwards so he fell flat on the hard floor. “Still abused in the 21 st century.”

“I won’t say I’m sorry.”

“I never expect it.” Arthur reached a hand out, and Merlin allowed the once king to pull him to his feet. “But anyway, I’ll try to find something for you to wear tonight. Tomorrow we’ll go shopping.”

“Shopping?”

“Erm, getting clothes for you. I’ll be right back.” Merlin watched Arthur sit back down again before he went into the bedroom. His closet was small and stuffed, but most of it wasn’t clothing. Small mementos of his life, mostly salvaged from Camelot before it was completely destroyed. Arthur’s breast plate and helmet were in there, as well as a few vials of potion that Gaius had mixed so long ago. A dragon’s scale, from Kilgharrah, an old, worn red neckerchief, spotted with a king’s blood if you looked hard enough. These things he used magic to transport, and magic to keep the doors firmly closed so no one would ever take them from him.

Because the closet was overfull, most of Merlin’s clothing was still packed in two suitcases, resting against the wall. After a while digging, he found a dark red shirt that had always been a little too big for him and a pair of plaid pajama pants that were loose, but a drawstring around the waist had always made them work just fine. He carried them out to Arthur, who made a face.

“What are those?”

“Clothes. C’mon, you can change in the bathroom.” Arthur frowned as Merlin dropped the clothing in Arthur’s lap, crossing his arms and tapping his foot. “Or do you need some help getting dressed? If I remember correctly-“

“Shut up.” Arthur stood and carried the two unfamiliar pieces into the bathroom with him, giving Merlin a defiant look. It took him a moment at the bathroom door to figure out the knob, but eventually he got inside, closing the door a little too loudly behind him.

Merlin sat on the couch, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. This was still too much for him. Arthur. Arthur, dressed in a suit, in the middle of a murder investigation. Arthur, the once king, again a prince in the 21st century. Arthur, accepting his magic. Arthur in general. After years of waiting, years of being alone, Merlin had found Arthur.

Man, finding your best friend after so many years was exhausting.

Merlin had just about drifted off when he heard a scream come from the bathroom, and immediately he was on his feet, ready to defend himself and Arthur against whatever-

“Merlin!” Arthur pushed the door open, his shirt half off and an almost scared look on his face. Merlin noticed the buttons that were now missing from the shirt, the tie that looked distressed but was still wrapped around his neck.

“What is it?”

“What is this?!” Arthur pulled the shirt back to show a tattoo on his right shoulder. It was a tribal dragon, its wings spread and its maw wide open. Merlin laughed quietly, but Arthur shook his head.

“No, Merlin, this isn’t funny, _why do I have a black dragon on my shoulder?_ Is it magic? Did _you_ do this to me? Merlin, I swear-“

“No, Arthur, it wasn’t me.” Merlin had to make an effort to stop the quiet chuckle that still wanted to break free of his chest. “You apparently got a tattoo in my absence.”

“A tattoo? Merlin, stop speaking nonsense and tell me-“

“A tattoo is… it’s ink that you push into your skin, so the mark stays forever.”

“ _Why_ do I have one?”

“Apparently you… liked it? Don’t you remember…?” Merlin had a sudden realization as he stared at the tattoo on Arthur’s shoulder. He was a man. He should have memories of growing up in this new century, this new world, should understand what everything was. “You have no memories of this world, do you?”

“Like I said, the last thing I remember was dying, and then I woke up looking at you.”

“But… you’ve had a life here, you’re the fourth prince-“

“Fourth? Well that’s a demotion from king.”

“ _The point is_ any idea of who you were previously… all of that’s gone?”

“I… yeah. I’m King Arthur one minute and Fourth Prince of Death the next.”

“That’s not your title.”

“Should be. I quite like it.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and dodged the smack he knew was coming. After 1500 years, he would have thought he’d forgotten the number of times he was almost hit in a day. Apparently his body remembered. “Arthur, you’re supposed to be the prince.”

“I’ve been a prince before, how different can it be?”

“Arthur, it’s been 1500 years. Everything is different.”

Arthur stared at him for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. What do we do?”

Merlin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, much longer than it had been in the days of Camelot. “First, you should finish getting dressed. Then a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’ll go find new clothes for you and figure out what to do next.”

“Right.” Arthur didn’t move, and when Merlin turned to leave he was stopped by a quiet, “Wait.”

“Yes?” He asked, his hand resting on the door.

“I know I… look, will you help me?”

Merlin couldn’t help the grin that broke across his face, but it was carefully erased when he turned to face Arthur. “Of course.”

Merlin taught him, walking him through the steps. There were a few jokes made at the prince’s expense, of course; the clothing of the modern age was, in Merlin’s opinion, easier to understand than in the days of Camelot, but he understood that it was still completely foreign to Arthur. So he loosened the tie and pulled it from Arthur’s neck, gently unbuttoned what was left of the shirt, taught him about the button and zipper on the trousers. He carefully pulled the T-shirt – a little too tight – over the blonde hair and helped the once king to pull the pajama pants up, a little too long but just right in the waist. Arthur turned and surveyed himself in the mirror over the counter, turning and twisting to check out the new apparel.

“This is what they wear now?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in the mirror. Merlin chuckled.

“These are nightclothes.”

“Oh. Well, I think I like them. Except-“

“Don’t you go complaining about the size, you’re the one that’s too big for ‘em.” Merlin grinned and skittered out of the room, avoiding yet another swipe from Arthur.

“Are you calling me fat?”

“I’m calling you ‘too big.’ There’s a difference.”

“Well, you’re as bony as ever, it seems. Can’t put on any muscle, Merlin?”

“Why do I need muscle, when I can-“ Merlin stopped himself before finishing _use magic_. He was getting a little carried away, and he needed to reign himself in. He was just so incredibly _happy_. Arthur accepted him. Arthur was back, and Arthur accepted him. The words pulled on the corners of his lips until his smile was too big.

Arthur gave Merlin a small smile, shaking his head. “You’re also as argumentative as ever. But! I’m ready to sleep!”

Merlin shook his head. “Would the prince like the couch or the bed?”

“King- prince. Right. Prince again.” Arthur frowned before shaking his head. In a rare moment of generosity, the prince offered, “Whichever you want, take it. This is your house, after all.”

Merlin nodded, but lead Arthur into his own room anyway. “Here, it’s not as fancy as the castle, but it’s home, and it’s comfortable.”

“Thank you, Merlin.” The blonde squeezed Merlin’s shoulder before walking into the room, settling himself into the Queen bed and rolling until he was comfortable. Merlin took a few blankets and an extra pillow off the bed before closing the door quietly behind him. He made up the couch and lay down, feeling the exhaustion in his limbs. It had been a long day, but he was sure there were many more to come. After all, the fourth prince had just completely lost his memory, instead regressing to the once king of Camelot. There would have to be a lot of explanation and a lot of careful planning before they could be accepted in the world.

The night went all too quickly, and by 11:00 the next morning Merlin was watching the news, listening to the strange disappearance of Arthur Pendragon.

“Shit.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2! Hope you've enjoyed! 
> 
> I apologize, but chapters will be fairly irregular, due to school and the like. But I'll do my best!
> 
> I definitely just titled it 'Fourth Prince of Death' because I think it's funny. That's probably just me. Oh well.
> 
> It'd be cool if you stick around and continue reading! 
> 
> Thanks!


	3. Learned Some Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The revelation of Arthur's estate.

“Arthur, we need to be going.” Merlin pounded on the door and began gathering up his things: cell phone, wallet, jacket, keys. Arthur stumbled from the bedroom as Merlin was putting his shoes on, lacing up the worn red converse that clashed spectacularly with his worn red jeans. He didn’t have time to care at the moment, not when the news kept yelling about the missing fourth prince, last seen at the scene of a crime downtown. It was rumored that he’d been kidnapped by the murderer, in an effort to keep his identity a secret. Other sources said he had been seen dragging a dark haired man into the taped off area, and had been seen leaving with the same man. There was speculation that the prince had just had a ‘crazy night out,’ and would be home soon. Others argued that partying wasn’t like the prince, especially with no forewarning. He was predictable, and something horrible must have happened to cause the silence. Whatever the case, they were all clamoring for an explanation, something that Merlin wasn’t prepared for.  
Arthur stood in the doorway for a moment before frowning. “What’s the problem?”  
“You’re the problem, fourth prince of death. You’re missing.”  
“I’m right here, I’m not-“  
“You’re the prince and you mysteriously disappeared from the scene of a crime with no explanation to your parents. You’re missing.” Merlin didn’t have patience to deal with the man’s confusion, not when he was worried about what to tell the authorities when he was no doubt questioned.  
“Ah.”  
“Yes. Come on, we have to get going. Put on the clothes you had on yesterday, we’ll do our best to make them seem… I don’t want you to look like I’ve attacked you.”  
“I don’t want to wear those again.”  
“I don’t have time for your pouty, princey behavior, Arthur, we’ve got to go inform them that you’ve not been killed.”  
“I’ll just wear these.”  
“You can’t wear pajamas in public, you’re the prince-“  
“Which should mean I can do as I wish.”  
“Being a prince is different now. Come on, just put them on-“  
“No. These are comfortable, I’d like to wear these.”  
“Remember in Camelot, you had to wear dress clothes? Or armor? This is the same thing, except you’re never allowed to just be comfortable in public. It’s always dress clothes and armor here.”  
“If I’m the prince-“  
“Only by name, Arthur, but you don’t hold any real power here. You’re a figurehead, someone to look up to, and occasionally the royal family gets to make a decision. Mostly you host charity events and impress the media.”  
“Media?”  
“The people that take your picture, and they talk about you… it’s not important right now. Just please, go put on your clothes, later we can go shopping or check out the royal wardrobe or something. And hurry, please, because I don’t want to get arrested.”  
“Fine, Merlin.”  
“Really?”  
“Only because I don’t understand this world, and not because I’m doing you any favors.”  
“Fair enough. Hurry.” Arthur pulled his shirt off as he walked in the bathroom, not bothering to close the door this time because he would be needing help. If getting the suit off had been difficult, putting it back on would be worse.  
After a good twenty minutes of struggle, Merlin muttered a few words of power and put Arthur’s clothes back in store-bought shape, pristine and freshly ironed. Arthur frowned for only a moment before he caught himself and composed his face. It hurt Merlin more than he cared to admit that his friend still didn’t completely accept his magic, but he supposed that was to be expected. He’d hardly had time to adjust to it.  
Still, he couldn’t get rid of the pain that haunted the back of his mind. He needed Arthur to accept him so much more than he thought possible, because he didn’t want to feel alone anymore.  
It took longer than necessary to get Arthur into a cab, because he insisted that he would rather ride a horse.  
“We don’t use horses anymore, Arthur, we use cabs. They’re a lot more comfortable, and they go a lot faster without getting tired. They require less room. They’re safe, just as safe as a horse. Just get in, because we need to get you home.”  
Arthur made a face when Merlin said the word ‘home,’ and he knew they were both thinking of Camelot instead of what was sure to be a stuffily expensive mansion. But that was too long ago, and neither of them had the ability to travel back in time.  
Arthur didn’t want to use the seat belt, but Merlin insisted it was necessary and forced the prince to buckle himself in. He wasn’t about to lose Arthur again because he wouldn’t use a seat belt, even though there was very little chance that they’d be in an accident on the only car trip Arthur had ever experienced.  
The prince was nervous the entire trip, and wouldn’t say anything to Merlin as he stared out the window and watched the world pass him by. Fortunately, this driver was relatively calm. Arthur couldn’t have handled much more.  
They arrived in front of a mansion, much as Merlin had expected, with pillars supporting a porch roof over a too long set of stairs leading up to the huge oak front doors with intricate windows on either side. Arthur was shaky when he got out of the cab, and Merlin had to help him stand. Arthur didn’t recognize it at all, which didn’t surprise either of them at the moment.  
They had only taken a few steps when Merlin heard the pounding of running, booted feet, heavy against the concrete, and he could hardly prepare himself for the tackle he received from behind. His head hit the ground hard enough to rattle his brain, and it took him a few moments to realize what was happening.  
Someone stood with Arthur, talking in quiet tones, and Arthur replied in much the same way. In no time Merlin was being hauled to his feet, although two large men kept hands on his arms, a warning and a threat if ever Merlin had experienced it. Arthur met the sorcerer’s eyes quickly before turning and following another large man, dressed in black dress pants and a dark dress shirt, up the steps and into the building.  
Inside was exactly what Merlin had imagined it to be; sterile, pale colors, expensive vases setting on pedestals, pieces of art that were beyond Merlin’s understanding hanging on the walls. He’d never gotten into modern art, had never cared to, and these… pieces of art were a little beyond his understanding. He had to admit, he wasn’t a fan of the muted dark colors in abstract patterns that he was seeing in the Pendragon household. The grand staircase in front of the door led to other rooms that Merlin assumed were just the same as this, and the large arches on either side of him led to darkened rooms, sunlight filtering in between the blackout curtains. It was too dark, too sterile, and too hard. Not at all comfortable, but not unlike the castle in Camelot, either. Arthur certainly seemed more at ease inside these walls than those of the apartment, although that was probably in part because of his past here. It seemed to be making an appearance again as he spoke in muted tones with the guard.  
His new mother – the queen, Merlin supposed – came rushing down the steps within a few minutes, her face stained with tear tracks. The raven haired boy had to force his eyes to remain still, as much as he wanted to roll them and snort. Arthur hadn’t been gone all that long, and he was perfectly fine, probably in better condition than when he’d left yesterday morning. Well, except for the memory thing. But there was no reason for her to know about that.  
“Arthur, darling, I’m so glad you’re alright, I was worried sick!” She was the stereotypical rich mother, that was for sure. She was also the Queen, so Merlin knew he had to show a little respect. She may not have any real power, but she still had a lot of sway in the people’s opinions. If she wanted Merlin gone, it wouldn’t be difficult to get rid of him. And honestly, Merlin had no idea what kind of person this woman was. He’d stopped paying attention to politics a long time ago, especially since he didn’t really feel obligated to follow their rules. He knew there was always a good reason for them, but he also didn’t really fit in with the rest of humanity. Besides, when you’ve lived for over a thousand years, you should be granted some liberties.  
His mother was fair, very fair; pale golden hair, pale skin, and pale blue eyes framed by pale lashes. She was small, fragile looking, and her deep purple gown made her skin and hair seem to glow. Nothing that Merlin would have expected of the broad, meaty prince’s mother, but he supposed there was a lot of Uther in Arthur.  
“I’m fine, mother, I was just out late and crashed at Merlin’s house.” Arthur stepped into her embrace, hugging her quickly and tightly before stepping away again.  
“Merlin?”  
“This is Merlin, mother. I met him… a very long time ago. We met up again last night, when I was working, and he offered me a place to stay. He’s a good man, mother, and I think you’d like him.”  
“Would I?” She stepped away from her son to survey the boy being held by two guards. “Why would I like him?”  
“Well…” Arthur floundered for words for a few seconds, no doubt thinking back to Camelot and the very few times he’d complimented his manservant. “He’s brave, loyal, and willing to be completely honest with me. Which, of course, has its drawbacks, but he’s never afraid to give me the truth, whether or not I want to hear it.”  
“That does sound like a very valuable friend to have.” She looked at the two guards, who immediately released Merlin from their too tight grip and left, leaving only the first guard to watch the boy. “You should have rung me, I would have liked to know what had happened to you.”  
“I’m sorry, mother. It won’t happen again.”  
“See that it doesn’t. I love you, Arthur, but you certainly like to give me a heart attack. Dinner is at 7 tonight, I expect you to be there on time. And take a day off today, you look like you need it.” Without another word, she turned and retreated through the left archway, the dark color of her dress blending into the darkness. The guard followed her at a distance of a few feet, leaving Arthur and Merlin alone in front of the grand staircase.  
Arthur sighed deeply, slumping. Merlin would have laughed, except his head hurt too much to joke around.  
“That’s my mother. My mother is alive.” Arthur’s voice was breathy, full of restrained, unrecognized joy.  
“Yeah. Guess so.”  
“Didn’t you know?”  
“I haven’t been following modern politics very well.”  
“So you wouldn’t know about my father?”  
“Sorry, no.”  
Merlin could see the disappointment that made Arthur’s shoulders drop slightly, but only slightly; there was too much joy in seeing his mother to be so concerned about his father. Besides, they hadn’t exactly been very close in their previous life together.  
Arthur looked up the staircase, then hesitantly began up the stairs. Merlin followed him, wondering where they were going and if this meant he was getting those memories again. Maybe it was a slow process of putting the two lives together. Nothing like this was recorded in history anywhere that Merlin could find, so it would all be playing it by ear.  
They walked through a simple, apparently elegant hallway that felt more unnatural than anything, past a series of wooden doors with no distinguishing features or marks, and to the second from the last. Though there was nothing marking it, Arthur seemed certain this was the right one and opened the door.  
Inside, it was not so depressingly empty as the rest of the house, although it still didn’t feel exactly homey. There was a four poster bed against the far wall, underneath a row of curtained picture windows looking onto the side yard, which was bigger than Merlin’s apartment. There was a small garden with a fountain in the middle, bushes and flowers just starting to sense the presence of spring. A stone bench set under a small gazebo off to the side, seemingly out of place in the otherwise perfectly symmetrical garden.  
Merlin looked at Arthur, who seemed to relax as he walked into the space. It did seem a reflection of his room in Camelot: gray walls with a few posters, red bedspread, a small desk with a laptop instead of a pile of scrolls against a wall under a painting, abstract but with the distinct feel of a lion. One large area rug of the same red as the bed clothes covered the middle of the room, but left the dark wood floor open around the edges. There was a dresser against another wall, small trinkets littering the surface and a painting of the Pendragon crest above it, exactly the same as when the blonde had been a great king. A closet took up the majority of the wall next to the door, dark wood doors shining with perhaps too much furniture polish.  
“This is home for you, then?” Merlin asked as Arthur fell onto the bed, face first, arms and legs sprawled out.  
“Yes.” His voice was muffled by the blanket in his mouth, but he didn’t move at all. At least now he seemed more comfortable than exhausted or confused.  
“Do you… remember more now?”  
Arthur didn’t answer for a moment, and Merlin wondered if he’d fallen asleep. He wouldn’t put it past the once king to fall asleep as soon as he hit the soft blanket, but after a moment the blonde rolled over and sat up again.  
“My body does. Some part of me does, knows what to say, knows… but I can’t remember specifics. I can’t recall information just because I want to.” He frowned. It had to be difficult, Merlin knew, for the man who had made it his business to be knowledgeable about every aspect of the kingdom to be unable to recall anything about his current kingdom.  
“It’ll come back.”  
“How can you be sure?”  
They both knew he couldn’t be, and that he certainly wasn’t. There was no precedent for this sort of thing.  
Merlin sat down on the bed next to his friend and took a deep breath. “It will come back. Just give it some time.”  
“I hope you’re right.” Arthur muttered, and then stood. He glanced around the room before going to the dresser and opening the top drawer. Inside lay piles of underwear, matched socks, and undershirts. He pulled one of each out at random and tossed them on the floor, kneeling to open the next drawer. Inside were more of the same, and with a shake of his head he closed it and moved onto the closet, where he found a t-shirt and a pair of jeans that seemed rather worn for the fourth prince. Merlin didn’t comment as he piled all of his newfound clothes on the bed next to the raven-haired boy.  
“Help me.” It wasn’t a question; it was the king of Camelot demanding his manservant help him dress. Merlin snorted and shook his head, but he pulled the clothes out of the pile one by one in the order he would need to dress.  
“I’m not helping you with your underclothes; you can go to the corner and do that yourself.” Merlin muttered. Arthur frowned for a moment before shrugging and taking the things Merlin handed him, trotting obediently to the corner of the room.  
Merlin tilted his head to the side in confusion as the prince didn’t fight him. That was a new trait, certainly. Although maybe it was just Arthur becoming accustomed to this world again, and he would soon be back to his usual, bossy self.  
Content with his conclusion, Merlin watched the floor as he listened to Arthur struggle out of his clothes and into the new ones. He glanced up as he heard Arthur’s barefeet pad across the floor, watching the larger man as he came to a stop at the foot of the bed.  
“These –“  
“I’ve got it.” Arthur took the pants Merlin had been about to explain and put them on easily, with only mild difficulty at the zipper and button. Merlin raised his eyebrows as Arthur looked up for the shirt.  
“What?”  
“Since when do you dress yourself?”  
“Shut up.” He snatched the shirt from Merlin’s fingers and pulled it over his head. It was a dated T-shirt, from some concert, the pale gray fabric stretched tightly across the man’s chest and the graphic torn and broken.  
Arthur rolled his shoulders and pulled at the fabric, but after that he seemed comfortable enough.  
“Now what?” Arthur asked, his hands held behind his back in the at rest position for a shoulder, his feet shoulder width apart. It was a stance Arthur had been known to take in Camelot, but not often, so it was a little strange to see it now.  
“This is your house.” Merlin muttered, and fell backward on the bed as Arthur made to hit him. His hand stopped before it got close to Merlin, and he frowned.  
“Sorry. You’re right.”  
Merlin gaped at Arthur, wondering if he’d taken a hit to the head that the sorcerer hadn’t been aware of.  
“I mean… “ Arthur struggled to find something to say, but clearly nothing was immediately coming to mind.  
Merlin started to laugh. “So your mother forced some manners into you, finally?”  
Arthur snorted and shook his head. “Highly unlikely. Come on, I’ve got a life to learn about, and you’re going to teach me.”  
“Yes, your highness.”  
“You bet, your highness.” Arthur strode out of the door, and only returned when Merlin reminded him that he wasn’t wearing any shoes.  
It would be a long day, certainly. Not a bad one, but long.

**Author's Note:**

> So... this is my first fic here... it's pretty exciting!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it, and hope you'll stick around. That would be cool.
> 
> Thanks!


End file.
